Close Boundaries
by The 0dd 0ne
Summary: [the thundermans] There goes her promise to never become star-crossed lovers with a supervillain. /or/ In which Max & Phoebe are not normal siblings. AUish (Also on Wattpad under my account there: The0ddest0ne0fAll) [max/phoebe] [thundercest] R&R *best review gets you a reading of the next chapter before it's published*
1. prologue: scaredy cat

_Prologue: Scaredy Cat_

_If Phoebe could fly, she'd scream. /or/ In which Max notices that his _dear_ sister never uses his fantastic slide of doom._

From the Perspective of a Bookworm

I have never hated my twin more. Not even when he decapitated my dolls' heads. And I'm still _really_ mad about that.

What exactly is my stupid _butthead_ of a brother doing that's so terrible? I don't actually know! But whatever it is, it's loud & obnoxious! Like his stupid rabbit!

_"Max!" _I scream, fed up with him & his "evil" schemes. Throwing my math textbook to the other side of my bed & chucking my mechanical pencil at the floor, I stand up, fuming. I can't _concentrate_ with him doing whatever non-school related _thing_ he's doing to avoid his homework. Ugh!

"Max!" I scream again as I march down his stairs.

"What?" He yells back, halting his rocket crafting. Really? Again with the rockets? This is what - his ninth one?

"Would you keep it down? I'm _trying_ to do my homework," I tell him in exasperation.

"Would _you_ keep it down, Phoebe? _I'm_ trying to build a rocket since Billy & Nora wrecked the last one," he scoffs, returning to his work.

"Oh, so you're dumb rocket is more important than my grades?" I demand, my eyebrows raising as I take on my "you did _not_" expression.

"Yes!" Max exclaims flinging his arms in the air.

"_Really?_ I'm _pretty_ sure me getting into HU is way more important than you wearing a stupid lab coat & lighting a fire in our house to launch a rocket!" I retort, stepping forward to glare up at him - stupid 4 inch height difference.

"No, it's not! It's just one assignment, Phoebe - this is something I've been working on for a week!" He shouts at me, bowing his head to glare right back down.

"It's a stupid rocket - you've made like 8 of them before, I _need_ to get good grades, Max!" I retort, slamming down on the launch button.

"_Phoebe!_" He exclaims, his eyes widening, "I wasn't done with that!"

"Oops!" I feign innocence, getting on my tip toes; the height difference really bothers me when I'm trying to yell at him.

Unfortunately, he has the same issue. His head lowers as mine rises & the worst possible thing happens:

Our lips brush.

Even if it's just a second . . . There's this weird tingling feeling at my lips as my feet fall back to the ground.

Breathing deeply as blood rushes to my face, my eyes find the floor. It's quiet for a few moments as I regain my composure.

_It's okay . . . It was an accident, it wasn't even a kiss. Our lips just brushed while we were arguing. The definition of a kiss is to touch or press the lips together, slightly pursed. Our lips weren't pursed - he didn't kiss me & I didn't kiss him. It's okay . . . Unless you're going by the Merriam-Webster definition, then even a touch of the lips is a kiss. Oh, my God, I kissed my brother. My twin brother was my first kiss! No, no, it wasn't even a second & our lips weren't pursed & we didn't mean to!_

We don't speak as I back away.

"Phoebe," he breaks the silence, "why don't you ever use the slide?"

"What?" I breathe out, my forehead creasing in confusion.

"You never use my slide of doom, I installed it for people to use. _Everyone_ uses it; Billy, Nora, Mom, Hank, everyone but you," he says with a shrug.

Is he trying to pretend our lips didn't just brush?

"No reason - I mean, I just don't trust you or your weird slide," I lie quickly. The truth is . . . I'm afraid of heights. I have been ever since Dad flew me around town when I was 9 for getting straight A's. I almost fell off his back & . . . I can't even go on Max's stupid slide without remembering the feeling of my stomach churning as I fell, screaming for my daddy as wind hit my face.

"You really suck at lying, Phoebe," he snorts, crossing his arms.

"I'm not lying." My voice squeaks.

"Yeah, you are," he says with a stupid smirk.

"Okay, fine! I'm lying, it's just . . ." I trail off with yet another blush.

"What? Don't tell me you're scared," he snorts.

I stare at the floor in embarrassment.

"Oh, my God. My twin sister the superhero is _scared_ of the big bad slide," he laughs.

"Sh - shut up! Don't you remember that time I almost fell to my death?" I interject, my blush worsening.

"Phoebe, that was _5 years_ ago," he snorts, _again_.

"And that makes it _less_ traumatic?" I deadpan.

"Okay, fine. You know what, since I'm a good brother - " I shoot him a dirty look, remembering all the pranks - "okay, since I'm your brother, I'll help you get over your dumb phobia."

"And how exactly do you plan to do that?" I whisper, scared of what mess he'll get us in.

"Relax, we're going for a ride," he grins, grabbing my hand & intertwining our fingers. I blush, this is my brother. Why am I so nervous? Are those _butterflies_ flapping around in my stomach?

. . . I guess it's alright for him to hold my hand. It's brotherly, right? Even if he is tracing patterns on my hand & he did intertwine our fingers . . .

At the mouth of his slide, he turns to me to smirk. "Ladies first," he gives a quick, sarcastic raise of the eyebrows as he guides me to the edge, never releasing my hand.

Nervously, I sit down, flattening my skirt. He follows suit, his legs resting around me as he wraps his arms around my waist. I stop breathing for a second. No boy has ever touched me so . . . Intimately.

"Hold your breath," he breathes down my neck before pushing off. I almost scream but my voice gets lost somewhere in my throat. His grip tightens in the darkness &, terrified as my stomach lurches, I nuzzle my head into the crook of his neck. I whimper as we come to a halt, inches from the exit. He whispers, "it's okay, it's okay . . . I've got you, Phoebe, I've got you. I'm not gonna let you fall . . . Max is here, & he's not going anywhere."

I squeeze my eyes shut, shifting so I'm crying into his chest with my knees tucked in. "I was so scared," I choke out, sobbing.

"I know, but it's okay now . . ." He murmurs as he strokes my hair.

The tears keep coming & I'm falling, I'm falling & that scares me so much.

I must cry for half an hour before he whispers, "are you ready to try again? I promise, if you fall, I'll catch you."

I nod into his chest before sliding out. He tilts my chin up to wipe away my tears. But I don't expect him to kiss my forehead. He guides me back to the same spot & seats me in the same way, but this time, he squeezes my hand. I breathe in as we push off.

He holds onto me tightly as I shut my eyes. _It's okay, it's okay. Max won't let me fall, he promised. He looked me in the eyes & promised, he meant it. He really meant it. I'll be fine._

I relax my body as light shines through. I made it. I made it.

I'm okay.

Of course that would be when we fall onto his bed.

I am _not_ okay.

We untangle ourselves, careful not to brush lips again. I perch myself on the edge of his bed, right next to him. ". . ." It's quiet. Neither of us know what to say. But I decide on: "thank you."

"No problem, scaredy cat."

I flush bright red.

"Max!"


	2. 1: in a fake relationship with my twin

_1: Relationship Status: In a Fake Relationship with my Twin Brother_

_It's times like this she wants his mouth wired shut again. /or/ In which Max & Phoebe are so not twins__._

From the Perspective of a Bookworm

"OMG, Pheebs," Cherry squeals, hooking arms with me.

"What's got you so excited?" I laugh.

"Guess who got a MePhone?" She singsongs.

"OMG, how'd you afford that? I have been _dying_ to get one all week but I don't have enough money," I groan.

"Easy, I just buttered my dad up & he coughed over the cash," she smiles, brandishing her new MePhone.

"Seriously? I'll have to try that on my dad," I laugh, tucking my hair behind my ear.

Hey, there's Max! I know it's him because of that 'too cool to be here' expression.

"Hey, Max," I smile, waving at my brother.

"Sup, Dork," Max smirks, winking at me.

I feel my face heat up, weird. Why should I be blushing at my brother winking at me? I mean . . . He is kind of cute . . . _Boy_ cute - _stop it, Phoebe! That's _Max,_ your twin!_

"Ooh, who's the cute guy?" Cherry giggles, suggestively wiggling her eyebrows.

"That's Max, you know, he's been called to the principal's office like, 8 times," I give a slightly strained laugh at the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach that's so similar to when he wrapped his arms around me.

"I know that, Phoebe, but _who _is he?" She grins, "c'mon, give me the deets."

"Well, there's not really that much to tell, he's Max," I remind her.

"OMG, are you & him a thing? I mean, it would be totes adorbs if you guys were, considering you already have the same last name - it's so cute, like a sign!" She squeals, clapping her hands together. Me & Max . . . A thing . . . Why is my face heating up?

"Nonono, I don't like Max _that_ way," I shake my head violently, I almost add, "he's my brother" but that would just make things awkward. But how does she not remember that he's my brother? What did he do to her!?

"Tell that to your blush when he winked at you, hashtag, _crush_!" She singsongs with small applause.

"Seriously, I couldn't possibly like him like that," I say, blushing furiously.

"Whatevs, _you're_ just in denial, Pheebs," she laughs as we walk to Art.

Something familiar stirs in my stomach as we walk to Art. Familiar in a scary, immoral way.

Buttering Dad up didn't work. He just told us (Max wants a MePhone too, obviously) to get jobs. _After_ we catered to his every whim & got rid of his feet "issues." Ugh. That was . . . _Disturbing_, to say the least. Well, at least _I_ found a potential job that _doesn't_ involve dog poop.

"_Tyler?_" I ask. It's weird to see Tyler outside of class. Well, it's weird to see Tyler. Usually it's just a bobbing afro across the room. But seriously, _he's_ what's standing in the way of me & my MePhone?

"You two are applying for jobs together?" He raises an eyebrow, unplugging his ear buds, "all you ever do is argue. But I guess you would make a cute couple."

"_Couple?_" I repeat, my eyes widening "We're - "

" - _Already_ a couple," Max lies, draping his arm around my shoulders like a boyfriend. He's warm. Really warm. And something about the way he has his arm around me feels nice. Perfect.

He smiles, yes, smiles. It's this weird, huge grin that he just plasters on as he holds me like his life depends on it. "I told everyone we aren't related," he whispers through the corner of his mouth.

"Seriously?" Tyler deadpans, clearly not believing that we're a couple.

"Yeah, we were keeping it on the downlow; a need to know basis," Max shrugs casually, you know, as if telling people we're not related & then saying we're dating is perfectly normal!

"And now you've told someone who didn't need to know, _sweetie_," I say through grit teeth, holding the hand of the arm he has draped around me & intertwining our fingers before giving Tyler a sweet smile.

"Relax, babe," my heart skips a beat, "he won't tell the whole school."

"You better be right, Max," I sigh, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"I'm always right. Just another thing I'm better than you at," he smirks, his eyebrows tauntingly tugging upwards for a second.

"Says the one who looks like he shops at the bus station lost & found," I retort, rolling my eyes.

"_Chillax__,_ babe," he laughs, planting a kiss on the top of my head, "you're too cute when you're mad."

I pout, "_Max._"

"What?" He chuckles.

"I am not cute when I'm mad," I argue, still pouting.

"You're right, it's more like adorable," he teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Shut up," I flush, crossing my arms.

"Aw, c'mon, Pheebs," he pleads.

"No, I'm mad at you," I deadpan.

"Is it really that bad?" He grimaces.

"To hear that when I'm trying to be intimidating I end up looking "cute?" Yes!" I exclaim.

"Okay, whatever - you still argue all the time. And that job is mine!" Tyler declares, walking out. What? Argue . . . Job - Max!

"What was that?" I ask after pulling away from him.

"Lying?" Is _he_ not sure what it was?

"About _that__?_ Of all things?" I demand, crossing my arms.

"It's better than being related," he shrugs.

"You'd rather be dating than twins?" I breathe out, my heart stopping.

"At least I could dump you then," he, once again, shrugs.

"Ugh," I groan, "let's just fill out the stupid forms now."

"Whatever you say, Pheebs," he says, plopping down & swiping a blue jacket way too tight on him, "do I still look like a bum?"

"Isn't that a little tight?" I snort.

"Thanks, I've been working out," he smirks, flexing. "But isn't it a little inappropriate for my _dear _sister to notice that kind of thing?" His smirk grows, his eyebrows raising suggestively.

"Could've sworn I was your girlfriend a minute ago," I retort with a furious blush after a moment of awkward silence.

His stupid smirk grows. He winks at me. Again.

I think my heart stops.

Crap.


	3. 2: pervert

_2: Pervert_

_Max needs a bra, Phoebe is a teenage girl, do the math. /or/ In which Max reaches an all time low._

From the Perspective of an Aspiring Supervillain

Is it wrong that I'm seriously considering _stealing_ one of my sister's bras?

It's not like I'd be, you know . . . _Relieving_ myself with it. I just sort of . . . NeedabrabecausetheLeagueofMasterVillainswanttoseeifIcanfollowinstructionswithoutquestion.

And, um . . . Phoebe has bras. It'd be weird if I just went to Jessica's Closet & _bought_ a bra. I'd look like a total perv! Then again, stealing my sister's bra would also make me look like a pervert . . . But only if I got caught. Hm . . . If I just time it right - like when she's in the shower - I can slip in & steal a bra from her closet. It'll be back before she even knows it was gone.

Dinner is quite possibly the most awkward experience of all time as I avoid making eye contact with Phoebe & accidentally brush hands with her over the salt. Normally, I'd use my powers but I'm basically grounded from using them inside the house because of the whole Fondu-doo Head thing. And I guess Phoebe is still down about the waking up in school prank.

Then there's the fact that we both got to the table late & had to sit _right_. Next. To. Each other. And our legs brushed. 16 times. Did I mention she was wearing a skirt? A short skirt that rode up her thighs while she, while she was . . . Was sitting . . . Not that I was looking! That would be gross, she's a nerd - and my sister!

After dinner, we excuse ourselves at the same time, to which she glares at me.

I wait until I hear water running to slip into her room. To the closet! Let's see . . . Woah, isn't this a little . . . _Lacy_ for my baby sister? Gah - focus, Max! You're here to get one of her bras, not gawk at her underwear. Polka dots? This I could actually envision her wearing, except I totally won't because she's my sister & that would be weird. Pssh . . .

Too girly . . . Too pink . . . Too frilly . . . Woah! What is this contraption? Wait . . . Is this - oh, my God it is! My sister has a push up bra, this is too good to be true. I force a hand to my mouth to stifle my laughter. Yeah, I'm definitely taking this one. Closing her closet door, I get up to leave.

The door knob turns.

I must have missed when the running water turned off! Damn my concentration on her bras!

Quickly, I stuff her push up bra into the only place I can: my pants.

She walks in, whisper singing, "but I wonder what happen if you say what you wanna say, let the words fall out - Max?" She stops dead in her tracks.

It takes all my willpower to control my hormones.

There's Phoebe alright, in a towel. _Just_ a towel. I trace the outline of her small frame with my eyes, her shoulders glisten with drops of forgotten water & the curve of her breasts is far too visible. I drag my eyes down, it's not the right choice but it's better than standing there like an idiot as I gawk at my sister's bust. Her legs are longer than I remember, going on for what must be miles. Realizing the danger of my gaze, I raise them to her eyes, forcing an amused expression, "hey, sis."

"What are you doing in my room?" Her voice trembles as she tries to cover herself better.

"Oh, nothing," I feign a sly smirk, carefully stepping forward in the most predator-esque manner I can. Her face gets 3 shades redder. Maliciously, I circle her, taking in every detail, every curve.

"Max," she whispers, trembling herself.

I stop, inches away from her with my hands folded behind my back, "that's a good look on you, Pheebs." I say this in possibly the huskiest tone I have.

She doesn't draw breath for a minute as this sinks in.

I smirk, now unable to help myself, "but you'd look much prettier without the towel."

She opens her mouth like she's going to scream for mom so, obviously, I panic. Unfortunately, for me, panicking is apparently drawing her into a hug.

I feel her towel slip. Oh. My. God.

She tenses even more in my arms. I'm far too afraid to pull away now. Here I am, with my sister's bra shoved down my pants & said sister stark naked in my arms.

"Max," she whispers.

"Yeah, Phoebe?" I breathe out.

"Close your eyes," she quietly instructs. I nod, doing as told. After a moment of silence, she hits me with a book. "I can't believe you!" She screams, pounding the book against my chest.

"Ow!" I scream, trying to shield myself from this outburst of violence.

"Get!" Hit. "Out!" Hit. "Of!" Hit. "My!" Hit. "Room!" Guess what? Hit.

She literally _beats_ me out of her room.

I don't think I've ever seen Phoebe _that _mad. Which is bogus because I was just teasing her.

Seriously, she didn't have to beat me up with her freaking math book or whatever it was! And you know what the worst part is? It was a hardcover book! I swear she bruised my abs.

"Someone's on her period," I grumble, rubbing my bruised body.

"I heard that!" She screams, chucking something against the door I was dumb enough to lean against.

"And _I'm_ the evil one?" I groan, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Says the pervert who hugged his naked sister," Phoebe grumbles.

"Says the girl who totally enjoyed it," I smirk.

She's silent for a moment. "Wh - why would you think that?"

"I could _feel_ your, you know," I chuckle.

"Well, I could feel your _thing!_" She retorts before realizing what she just said.

Awkward silence ensues.

I'm such a freaking pervert.


	4. 3: operation date your sister

_3: Operation Date Your Sister_

_Normal sisters don't go on dates with their abnormal brothers. /or/ In which Max takes Phoebe to her first party._

_Quick thing before the story, this tied with _Star-Crossed Strings of Fate_ for a new chapter. Note that, even though 4 new reviews were added to this story & only 3 to _Star-Crossed Strings of Fate,_ only 3 of the reviews abided to the rules so they could qualify as a point. So, thank you for participating but please take care next time to take in consideration of all the requirements._

_Date of next holiday gift contest: February 14th, 2014_

From the Perspective of a Bookworm

"Tch, reading - seriously, do you _ever_ have, you know, _fun?_" _Max._ No. You're better than that, Phoebe. Breathe. Ignore him & breathe. "Well, do you?" He persists, his fingers tracing patterns into my shoulder. I tense, is it normal for twins to do this kind of thing?

I doubt it, then again, it's also not normal to have an evil twin who has a talking rabbit. Or for an 8 year olds to shoot eye lasers at you. Or for a 10 year old to run to Russia in 30 seconds. Okay, so normal is _not_ normal in my family.

I lick my lips & turn the page, determined to ignore him.

But Max has never really liked being ignored.

He licks my cheek. I repeat: he _licks_ my cheek. Normal people don't do that!

"Max!" I shriek, wiping away his saliva.

"When I ask you a question, Pheebs, answer it," he smirks.

Crinkling my nose with a pout, I begrudgingly answer his dumb question, "yes, Max, I have fun." He snorts. With an irritated glare, I add a small, "sometimes."

"Oh, yeah? When was the last time you went to a party?" He scoffs, wrapping an arm around me to shake me slightly. I open my mouth, realize I've never been to a _real_ party, & close it. "That's what I thought." I purse my lips, telepathically sending a pillow at his stupid smirk. "But fret not, baby sis," he says after the pillow falls back to the couch, "Change into something pretty, _we're_ going to a party."

_What?_

"Oh, & you might wanna bring a bikini," I repeat: _what?_ "Great talking to you, sis," he adds, patting my head.

I don't know what I have a harder time believing: that Max, my _twin,_ told me to pick out a bikini or that I actually am.

Ooh, this one's cute. Yellow's not a bad color choice, right? Maybe I should go with something darker - & polka dotted. Cherry says polka dots look good on me.

"As long as it has a bow, you're good," Nora scoffs from my doorway.

"Ah! When did you get here & how did you know what I was thinking?" I demand, putting a hand to my racing heart.

"5 minutes ago & you were 'thinking' out loud, Pheebs," she says with a flip of her hair & air quotes, "why don't you go with . . ." She violates my closet, throwing clothes left & right, "_this._"

"_This_ is mine?" I ask with total disbelief.

"It was in your closet," she shrugs.

"_This_ is tiny," I deadpan.

"It's pink & frilly, do you _really_ wanna question _your_ taste?" With a hand on her hip, Nora tosses it at me.

"It _also_ has bows on the hips, since when does _anything_ I own have bows on the hips?" I point out. I don't think I'd buy something so small, no matter how pink it is.

"I've seen some of your underwear, Phoebe, bows on the hips would not surprise me," Nora practically snorts, slipping out of my room.

I . . . I guess I could at least try it on . . . It is kinda cute.

And anyways, it's not like I have a better bikini right now.

"Hey, Phoebe, are you - whoa," Max whistles. He _really_ needs to stop invading my room when I'm changing. I instinctively raise my recently removed shirt to cover myself.

"Do you know how to knock?" I squeak, my face burning under his gaze.

"Uh . . . Nice bikini, sis," he breathes out.

"Get out!" I scream, chucking the nearest book at him - which is, unfortunately, _Abs of Steel, the Channing Tatum Story_. I check to make sure my book is okay before changing because, Channing Tatum, duh.

"Well . . . It is really cute," I murmur, looking at myself in the mirror. "And it's not like I have better options. Besides, who could it hurt?"

From the Perspective of an Aspiring Supervillain

It's not weird to think your sister looks hot, is it?

What? It's true . . . Which is weird since she's a nerd. A nerd in shorts & a baggy, geeky shirt. Okay, so "hot" isn't the right word, maybe it's more like cute. Not bunny cute, though, girl cute. I should shut up now. Yeah, that'd be a good idea. A really good idea.

"Max, I'm ready," she calls from the bathroom. Quickly, I turn around, panicking at the thought of her catching me staring at her through the ajar door.

"Psh, about time," I laugh nervously, awkwardly adjusting my hand placement.

"Heeey, it takes time to get ready," she whines, hands on her hips & a pout on her lips.

"It took me 4 minutes," I counter, looking her in the eyes. Okay, so it was worth the half hour wait. Now that I look at her, really look at her, she's . . . Well, she's _awesome._ Her hair's up in a cute ponytail, that's a plus, she's wearing a baggy shirt & loose shorts, holy crap, & oh, my God, my sister has _legs._

"All you had to do was put on a shirt & swim trunks, _I_ had to do my makeup, do my hair, find a bikini I don't hate, do you know how long that takes?" She rants, folding her arms & cocking her hip out in annoyance.

"1,800 seconds," I retort, getting off the couch, "now, c'mon, Pheebs, you're lucky I accounted for how long it would take you to get ready."

"Oh, shut up," she says, pushing into me. I smirk, she's cute when she's mad.

Cute enough for me not to care if people think it's a date.

. . .

Cute enough for a part of me to _want_ them to think it's a date. But I know this part is just hormonal & shove it aside. After all, there's no way I would want people to think I'm on a date with Phoebe.

_Right?_

A small voice in the back of my head whispers,_ wrong._

And then I make one of the most compulsive decisions of my life: I wrap an arm around her shoulders.

Her fingers intertwine with mine & she smiles, "you're a good brother, Max."

But there's something underneath her words that gets me.

* * *

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	5. 4: to be wanted for PhoebexMaxFan

_4: To Be Wanted_

_Summary: Max gets into a compromising position front of his evil rabbit. /or/ In which Phoebe wants to feel wanted._

_I swear to God I wouldn't write something like this normally. This is dedicated to you, PhoebexMaxFan because you wanted something like this so much. And yes, this probably the closest you will ever get to smutt because of my virginity. This was incredibly awkward for me to write so chances are it'll be a little awkward to read._

Phoebe Thunderman has reached an embarrassing moment in life. At 14, she just went on her very first date. And when Cole Campbell - she doesn't even know _why_ he would ask her out because, _God, _he's cute - walked her to her porch with his hands in his pockets & a flirty smile, making small talk about how great the date was even though Phoebe kept replaying all the awkward moments of the date, & went in to kiss her goodnight, Phoebe ducked away & went for a handshake.

It was absolutely, humiliatingly horrific.

"I can't believe I did that!" The brunette exclaims, flinging her arms around. She tenses when she realizes just how loud she's being at 11 PM.

. . . She breathes out in relief, she didn't wake anyone up. . . . _Why did I do that?_ But she knows. Phoebe knows exactly why she did it. Love. Cole doesn't love her, after all, they're only 14. And Phoebe wants to be loved. To be wanted. _Especially,_ by her first kiss.

The problem is admitting it, though.

Who can she talk to about this kind of thing? Talking to mom or dad would humiliate her even further, so they're out of the option; Nora is 8, so that would just be stupid; Billy is 10 & thus an incredibly immature boy, even stupider; so that leaves . . . Max.

Max who she knows has kissed girls before - she still remembers when they were 12 & she saw him making out with a really pretty girl. She also remembers that betrayed feeling like having your dreams all simultaneously, ruthlessly crushed by the person you trusted most. Something about the way his lips moved against that dark haired girl _hurt._

Folding her arms across her chest, Phoebe winces at the memory. After mentally slapping herself, she turns to observe her reflection in her mirror. Once again, Phoebe winces. _I look so pale, I took all my makeup off which doesn't help. Why am I even wearing my retainer? I'm clearly not going to bed any time soon. My pajamas are just weird - sleep shorts & a tank top? I feel so awkward. And my hair is so poofy - I'm a train wreck._

She groans, her neck rolling back with her head in distress. _Why do I care so much? It's just Max._ That makes her feel even more insecure about her appearance. But her pajamas take the cake; they're just a little too _inappropriate_ to have on around a hormonal teenage boy. Even if he's her twin.

. . .

_I know! I'll just change into the pajamas I wore when he moved my bed into school! . . . If those weren't being washed. Crap! I'm back to square 1. _She lets out a groan as she runs a hand through her tangling hair. Where'd she put Mr. Grumbles? Quickly, she returns her retainer to its original container as she summons her teddy bear. Straightening out her pajamas, she puts on a brave face & forces herself to walk in the direction of her brother's so-called "lair."

She gets there quicker than she expected, she's almost unbearably scared. She knows she can't go down the slide, he could be asleep on his bed, so she knocks on the wall as she quietly walks down the stairs, clutching Mr. Grumbles at her side.

"Max?" She whispers delicately, wriggling a little at the temperature drop.

"Phoebe?" He grumbles from his desk, his eyes droopy.

She can't help but notice the amount of chest being revealed by her brother's V neck, _no, bad Phoebe!_ She reprimands herself as she makes an effort to smooth out her goose bumps, _that's your really obnoxious brother! . . . Who happens to be just a little bit ripped - bad girl!_

"Um . . . You, you know how I had that . . . Er, date with Cole?" She continues, biting her tongue during her pauses to keep from rambling about dumb things. _Wait, is he staring at my legs? _She knows she can't blame him, just look at the tiny little shorts she's wearing. She blushes, squirming under his intense gaze. _This is weird, ah! It, it feels, ngh . . . God, why do I feel so . . . Oh, God, is he using his telekinesis to - ah!_

"Oh, that," he mumbles, unsure where she was going with this. Is he supposed to mock her? _Who cares? She's got really hot legs . . . God, she's making it hard to not . . . Don't go there, Max. Why is she squirming like that? She's such a weirdo. A hot weirdo, but still a weirdo. Wait a second - telekinesis! God, she's so sensitive to touch . . ._

"Well . . . Hewenttokissme&Ipulledaway&shookhishand&nowIhavenoideawhattodoorwhyIdidit - please help me," the dark haired goody-two-shoes rambles, her anxiety getting the best of her.

"Wait, Cole tried to kiss you but you shook his hand instead?" The tired supervillain-in-training laughs, standing up from his chair.

"Don't laugh - I was scared!" She whines, pouting at her twin's laughter.

"Scared? Why were you scared? You have superpowers, Phoebe, kissing shouldn't scare you," Max chuckles, a slightly sympathetic gleam flickering in his eyes at her gentle pout. He steers his gaze to his computer screen upon recognizing the new feelings rising inside him. Feelings about as brotherly as when he was staring at her legs.

"It . . . I just . . ." Phoebe tries to explain, sighing at her failure.

"Just what?" He snorts, crossing his arms with a cocked eyebrow.

"Max, can I tell you something?" She whispers, her voice vulnerable as she shivers.

"If you want it all over the internet by dawn," he jokes, noticing her shiver.

"_Max,_" she says, her eyes hurt as she, once again, shivers.

Sighing, he pulls his shirt off, "here," he hands it to her, "sorry about the A/C, Nora & Billy screwed it up."

Blood rushes to her face. Maybe she has seen her brother in a bra she's pretty sure he stole from her closet, but she hasn't seen him completely shirtless since they were 5 & they still took baths together. Besides, she was a little busy gloating at her prank's success that day. _Okay, he's a lot ripped - he's still your brother! Bad Phoebe!_

"Phoebe? I know you're cold, I _also_ know you're not wearing a bra," he teases, smirking at her.

_Oh. My. God. Does he _not_ get the implications of that!? Max was looking at my . . . Oh, my god. _That alone is almost enough to make her pass out. Instead, she covers her chest after snatching the offered shirt. Her face even redder than before, she slides it on. It's _huge_ on her. So big, it goes _past_ her sleep short's end. As in, she looks like she's not wearing shorts at all. _Wearing his shirt . . . Isn't that the kind of thing a _girlfriend_ would do?_

His face flushes a little at the sight of her in his V neck. She looks downright adorable; that insecure pout at her lips, the shoulders of the shirt drooping down her small ones, her blatant blush, the way she's holding Mr. Grumbles tightly in her arms - he can't help but smirk. "So, why was my _dear_ sister scared of being kissed?"

"You . . . You _promise_ you won't tell _anyone?_" She tentatively asks.

"Pinky swear," he shrugs.

"I . . . I've never been kissed before," she mumbles, looking down at her bare feet.

"Seriously?" Max chuckles.

"I should've known you'd laugh," she says, betrayal ringing through her mind.

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry, okay? It's just, is it really that big a deal?" He asks, biting down his laughter.

"_Yes!_" She exclaims, hugging her teddy bear even tighter.

"Why?" He asks, taking a step closer to her.

"Because . . . Look, Max, I'm a _girl, _my first kiss means a lot to me. I don't wanna waste it on someone who doesn't love me," she rambles, her body language becoming sadder with each confession.

"But you _want_ to kiss him?" Max asks, his eyebrows scrunching up.

"Well . . . Yeah," she breathes out, licking her dry lips.

"So, kiss someone who loves you," he snorts, rolling his eyes at his sister.

"That's the problem, _no one_ loves me," she whispers, her voice cracking.

". . . I do," he murmurs, stepping closer to her.

"What?" She breathes out.

"Don't make me say it again," he groans, "look, Phoebe, you're my sister & I can't stand seeing you in misery I didn't cause."

"Max, we're twins. You _can't_ be my first kiss," Phoebe futilely insists, ignoring the slight elation at the thought.

"_Come on,_ it's not like it'd be the real thing. Think of it as practice, I mean, you don't wanna kiss Cole 'cause he doesn't love you. I'm your twin. We were _conceived_ together, I'm stuck with you no matter what - I _have_ to love you," he argues, realizing his ulterior intentions.

He wants to kiss his sister.

Max wants to kiss Phoebe.

What's stopping him?

Doesn't Max Thunderman _always_ do what he wants?

". . ." She purses her lips, drawing nearer to him with a barely noticeable nod.

He gingerly rests his hands on her small shoulders as she tilts her head up awkwardly. He's not sure what that tingling feeling is, he doesn't think he's ever felt it before.

She's desperate to look anywhere but into his eyes, this is a tense enough situation. He stares down at her, holding her in place so she won't chicken out. Taking in a deep breath, she stands on her tip toes for a brief second to let their lips brush before returning to her natural height.

Her heart stops beating for a moment.

Did she drag her feet on the carpet on her way down?

She must have, that's the only way to explain the sharp zap she just felt.

. . . For that brief second, she felt . . . Wanted. _She's kidding, right? That was barely a peck._ "Phoebe," he whispers, tersely. "Sorry," she whimpers, "it's just - " His lips cut her off. And it's then that, for the first time ever, she drops Mr. Grumbles.

Something about the way his lips gently move, nibbling slightly, against hers is absolutely fantastic. So she doesn't push him away. Instead, her eyes flutter shut as she tries to respond. She feels wanted again.

Needed.

Loved.

She struggles to copy his mouth's movements while she slowly kisses back. As the rest of her body catches up with her lips, her hands find their way to his broad shoulders, where they mold against his bare skin.

Their lips pull apart. She gulps, staring into his eyes.

_One,_ she counts.

And she finds his lips again.

It's gentle & short. A few moments of ginger movement as she smiles softly with peacefully shut eyes & he holds back a smile because Max Thunderman doesn't smile. She pulls away but stays on her tiptoes with closed eyes & the same smile gracing her lips. He presses his forehead against hers in the silence.

_Two._

She opens her eyes nervously, scared to look him in those beautiful, brown eyes as she descends to the ground completely. He smirks at the cutely insecure upwards glance she gives him before pecking him on the lips for a brief moment.

_Three._

His head stoops to her height, his lips inches away from hers so his warm breath beats down on her still puckered lips. She initiates contact with slow, gentle movements of the mouth against his. Their lips find a rhythm of steady suction, her lips insecurely moving against his. This is the slowest & longest of their kisses so far. They pull away gently, her eyes closed blissfully & her lips still puckered slightly. He smiles, genuinely smiles, at just how adorable she looks with a blush & slight smile.

"Four," she breathes out.

His lips take hers hostage with a slightly rough kiss, ignoring her counting. It's faster than the others. His mouth moves quickly as she struggles to keep up. He chuckles into it, amused by her inexperienced efforts. Realizing why he's laughing, she opens her mouth to gain entrance to his. She's only ever heard other girls talking about French kissing before, obviously, but she thinks she can do it. He cocks an eyebrow, pulling away with a taunting expression. She averts her gaze, embarrassed by how bold she just was. He puts a finger to her chin to guide her gaze to him.

"Five," she whispers, "five times I kissed my brother." She barely realizes she's said it out loud.

"Someone's getting the hang of it," he mumbles, smirking down at her & ignoring what she said. She blushes scarlet & recaptures his mouth quickly. She thinks she's figured out the way he moves his mouth so, triumphantly, she replicates his notions.

He takes this as his cue to loop his arms around her waist & tugs her closer, his tongue sliding into her mouth. She gasps slightly before trying to stifle her moan as his kiss gets sloppy & passionate. His tongue swirls around in her mouth as he tightens his grip on her. This time, she doesn't even bother trying to stop her moan. He wants her. Someone wants her. She smiles into the kiss. He begins leading them to the nearest wall, rubbing small circles into her skin as she entangles her fingers in his hair. Just before her back slams into the wall, he grips her - ehm - _behind_ to help her jump up to wrap her legs around his waist. She makes very certain that her legs are securely locked while he bites her lip very slightly. It turns out that the feeling of her nether region press against him is overwhelming for her.

_And six times I wanted more._

She pulls away from him, resting her head against the wall as desperate, breathy pants for air leave her. He isn't phased by this notion & instead takes to leaving trails of kisses on her neck, sucking & nibbling as he searches for a soft spot. Her breath hitches as she lets out strangled moans, pulling his body even closer to her & rubbing her center against him, desperate for relief.

"_Max!_" She screams as he finds her neck's soft spot.

She's lucky the family is sleeping so deafly.

He smirks into her neck as he creeps his hands under her clothes to tease her even more. Her hips jerk into his, her back arching to his touch.

"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, _God,_" she whispers, shivering under his fingers' all too fleeting brushes. She gasps as he bites down. It's light & it doesn't hurt but oh, _God_ does it feel good. It's then that his hips begin rocking against her at a steady, painfully slow pace. "Please," she whimpers.

"Please, what, Phoebe?" He asks, cruelly stopping his actions.

"Please, help me," she whispers, panting.

"Help you with what?" He taunts, moving his head closer to hers. He blows into her ear, sending shivers down her spine, "I can't help you if I don't know what you want."

"_Please,_" she practically sobs, ". . . Don't make me say it."

"Say what?" He huskily whispers into her ear.

". . . _Please relieve me,_" she breathes out, her head resting against the crook of his neck. He smirks, rejoicing in his victory. His lips smother hers as he carries her to his bed. She desperately grinds her core into him before they fall to his mattress. He raises himself up on his hands & knees, hovering over her blushing form. Her hands take to exploring his abdomen with gentle brushes, her nails scratching his skin ever so slightly. As he takes in the rise & fall of her chest & the redness of her face as well as the visible dampness in the crotch of her sleep shorts, he remembers something.

This is his sister.

And this is wrong.

Flustered, she realizes the reality of the situation too.

They mumble apologies, separating their tangled mess of limbs. She grabs Mr. Grumbles, before she leaves with a furious blush & her legs tightly closed as she fiddles with the hem of his shirt. When she reaches the door, she hesitates & glances back at him, she can see his erection. It looks painful.

She opens her mouth to speak, she wants to say something, anything. But she knows she can't.

"Phoebe, I'm . . . Never mind," he shakes his head.

"You know, you just made out with a hot girl, stop moping," Dr. Colosso says.

"Yeah, but that hot girl is my sister," Max retorts, groaning.

"Max, you're evil. It doesn't matter what society says is okay, you want to be respected as a villain? Do things you want, break rules," Dr. Colosso sighs.

". . . You know what, you're right. Who cares? I - I love her & clearly, she feels something too," Max decides.

"Good, now, shut up & take care of your little problem - quietly!"

His erection is almost so painful he doesn't catch the "little" part.

Almost.

* * *

Hold back that follow or favorite,

And trade it for a review.

It'll serve as feedback & motivation for my writing tricks,

And otherwise, I might just slap you.

- Queen Alison the Obstinate


	6. 5: the investigation of whatever

_5: The Investigation of Whatever the Hell Happened_

_Interrogating your younger siblings isn't something any of them are above. /or/ In which _she_ gets back from Metroburg._

From the Perspective of a Bookworm

I haven't talked to Max all week. How can I after . . . That? It was stupid & compulsive & hormonal. I shouldn't have gone to Max about it, I shouldn't have agreed to that, I shouldn't have let it get that far. I could've stopped after one. I should've. Things will never be the same again, I can barely even look at Cole now.

I feel so . . . Dirty.

"Phoebe!" Max. It's the first time either of us have spoken to the other since that.

"What?" I'm surprised I don't choke on the word.

"Get down here, you won't believe what got dumped on our doorstep." I hear him laugh. Then grunt. Then Billy & Nora laugh. Then they grunt.

What happened?

I toss my book aside, yank my earbuds out, pause my music, & rush downstairs.

"Guys, what happ . . ." Oh, my God.

"Guess who's back / Back again / TayTay's back / Tell a friend," none other than Taylor herself references.

"Taylor!" I exclaim, stepping forward to hug her, "you're soccer tournaments are _finally_ over?"

"Nah, I just decided to come back to make that reference - what do you think, Pheebs?" Sarcastic as always, I see. That probably just makes it even harder to believe we're related. Like the blonde hair & blue eyes weren't already doing that.

"Ha, ha," I monotone, rolling my eyes a little. It's been almost 2 months & the first thing she does is make a sarcastic comment after (probably) injuring our siblings (Max first because Max _always_finds a way to get on her nerves & I imagine Billy & Nora laughed at him so _they_ got hurt. Ah, the cycle of Taylor).

"Don't roll your eyes like that, I'm older than you, baby sis." It's a good thing she's overprotective or I'd get smacked.

"Yeah, by 8 minutes," I laugh.

"Whatever, middle child." Yep, Taylor's back.

I make awkward eye contact with our brother.

. . .

And I remember that I made-out with him.

How could I forget - oh, that's right, I was too busy getting w - _wet_ - oh, my God - at the thought of him fu - fu . . . Making "love" to me . . . Oh, God.

From the Perspective of an Oldest Child

Awkward eye contact, much, Pheebs? What's up with her & Max? It doesn't look like they got in a fight. Clearly, everyone else is clueless about whatever happened. Or are they?

Time to interrogate our babiest brother & sister. This'll be fun.

"Nora, can I talk to you for a minute?" Which of course means, I don't care what your opinion is, I'm talking to you. Now. And she knows to listen.

She groans & follows me to the kitchen. Smart girl.

"Alright, let's make this quick. Tell me what happened between Maxy & Pheebs & I'll take you bow shopping with my new credit card, babiest sis." Hey, I don't beat around the bush. I occasionally beat _up_ the bush, but never around.

"I don't know, they've been avoiding each other since Phoebe's first date with some blonde guy - he's actually pretty cute, but don't tell her I said that, T." I've always been able to count on Nora to spill everything; she wouldn't _dare_ upset the girl who buys her bows.

"Don't worry, Nor, these lips," I zip an invisible zipper across my lips, "are _sealed._"

I've got everything I can from Nora, time to see if Billy has finally learned to take social cues or pay attention to people you can blackmail. Like your siblings. Because, hey, there's a commandment about how to treat your siblings: "thou shalt not murder." To not murder your siblings - _especially_ if your siblings have superpowers (i.e. telekinesis, freeze breath, heat breath, lasers from the eyes, or superspeed) - you have to either blackmail, ignore, or somehow be _nice_ to them.

Blackmail tends to be the most fun option.

Don't get me wrong though, I'm _nothing_ like Max with his dreams of becoming villain or whatever. I'm perfectly happy being an anti hero, I don't always have to do the right thing, like Phoebe, & I don't always have to do the wrong thing, like Max. I get to sit between, clean up the messes they make, & then make them do stuff for me. It's fun.

Oh, my God - poker face. I have to interrogate Billy. No smiling, no laughing, poker face.

"Billy!" I scream because screaming is the best way to get the attention of _anyone_ in our family.

"Coming!" He calls back as Nora slips out to do Nora-ish things.

"Don't bring your rocks!" I add as an afterthought. Yes, this is necessary to mention. No, you don't get to laugh at my babiest brother. I _will_ melt your face off. I have the heat breath to do it.

". . ."

I wait quietly, making weird faces to amuse myself. Stop judging me - you do it too!

"What'd'ya need, sis?" He asks, smiling widely & bouncing on his heels at superspeed.

"Okay, who gave you sugar?" I've got 10 bucks on Max.

"Max." And you owe me 10 bucks. Cough it up.

"Oi vey, I oughta - you know what, never mind," I say, remembering "thou shalt not murder." I can beat him to a pulp though. "Just . . . Tell me, what happened between Max & Phoebe."

"Uh . . ." He doesn't know. Great. Mom & Dad definitely won't know, & even Nora couldn't tell me anything. That leaves Max & Phoebe themselves, or . . . Dr. Colosso. Great. I have to interrogate an evil talking rabbit. Not exactly on my bucket list but . . . For Max & Phoebe's sake, curse my code of siblingry. What'll I have to wager? He'll probably want something - either to take over the world, be returned to a human, or carrots. I can't exactly help him take over the world or make him human again so, carrots it is.

Great. This'll be fun. Stupid siblings who can't solve their own problems . . .

If I didn't love them - I swear to God, if you tell them I said that, I will murder you

We're not siblings so it's okay.

* * *

Hold back that follow or favorite,

And trade it for a review.

It'll serve as feedback & motivation for my writing tricks,

And otherwise, I might just slap you.

- Queen Alison the Obstinate

P.S. WHOEVER GIVES THE _BEST REVIEW,_ GETS TO _READ THE NEXT CHAPTER_ BEFORE IT'S PUBLISHED._  
_


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